


The Trouble with New York City

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-04
Updated: 2006-03-04
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: When have Justin's instincts ever led him astray?





	The Trouble with New York City

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Here is my resolution to what I felt was the most bothersome CowLip plotline for season 5. I always felt that it was a weak and even nonsensical reason to have Justin move to NYC for his art.  
  
Constructive criticism is not only welcomed, it it much needed!  


* * *

_______________________________________________________________

Five days after he left for New York City, in his honorable quest to become the best artist he could possibly be, Justin breezed into the diner, rightly expecting to be seen as the best homosexual to ever have graced the likes of Pittsburgh. Bar Brian, of course.

"What the fuck?" Michael stammered in disbelief as he watched the newcomer strolling towards them in that all too familiar and all so annoying, coquettish gait. 

With characteristic blue-eyed sparkle and his trademark sweet, sunny smile, Justin flopped down beside Emmett with a casual "Hey" towards the counter, and Hunter, who was scrubbing the latest episode of customer dissatisfaction from his less than pristine white apron.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Michael spit out the words at his business partner and personal nemesis. Holy shit, would the guy ever quit looking like a twelve year old? he thought as he continued to glower at Justin.

Emmett, managing to look as queenly and stylish as ever even in the face of utter shock, recovered enough to smother Justin in a huge bear hug and plant a noisy, moist kiss on his forehead.

"Baby!!! I knew you couldn't live without us." He scootched down to rest his head on Justin's shoulder and looked up with guileless baby blues. 

Justin swatted him away and offered Michael his most angelic smile. "Still hoping I'll disappear for good one of these days?"

Michael scowled endearingly at him and gave Emmett a death stare just for the hell of it. "So what happened? Why are you here?"

"Food sucked. No good diners in NYC." Justin offered with a shrug. "Hey, hetero boy, a cheeseburger and a coke, if you please. I'm starving."

Michael's scowl deepened, Emmett giggled in delight and Hunter gave him the finger. It was good to be home! 

He smiled genially at them all and waited impatiently for his food to arrive.

 

_________________________________________________________

The fridge was, as usual, characteristically devoid of anything even remotely related to nutrition. Then again, there had never been a time when he would have expected to find a barbecued chicken just sitting temptingly and conveniently in the middle shelf waiting to be nuked. 

The familiar sight of poppers, Canadian killer beer and a whole lot of bottled water, brought peace to his soul and a rumble to his tummy. It had been a whole three hours since his impromptu afternoon snack at the diner and it was time to feed the beast again. Nothing edible to be found, however.

Giving up, he sprawled on the white leather couch in the darkened loft and smiled at the naked guy staring enticingly down at him from the wall. He relived with relish Michael's and Emmett's earlier astonishment at his grand entrance and pondered how to handle it when Brian inevitably would tell him to get his ass back to New York. 

He sighed, his glee a little dimmed at the prospect and remembered that he was still hungry. He made a bee-line for the fridge again. Perhaps he had overlooked a shelf or something. No such luck. Oh well. 

He grabbed a bottle of water. The light from the open fridge bathed the stylish kitchen in a soft vanilla glow. It was the welcoming, always safe night-light of his youth. 

Once the loft had seemed as huge and sacred as a cathedral. Now, this was the place where he always felt safe. The only place he would ever really associate with the word home.

He sat on the bed, drank half the bottle and settled down to wait for Brian.

___________________________________________________________

There was a lump on his bed. A big lump. Brian weaved slowly towards the bathroom, still eyeing the blue shaped mountain of comforter and sheets on the right side of the bed. 

Shit! Phyllis didn't show up again today. The place was turning into a pig sty. He vowed to come home early enough next Thursday so he could fire her sorry ass. 

Relieving himself for the thousandth time that night, he swayed slightly to the left almost missing his target. Shit, he was going to have a bitch of a hangover in the morning. As he flushed, he considered the necessity of a trip to the kitchen to grab some water. 

He made it to the edge of the steps and considered the seemingly endless trek to the kitchen. Fuck that! He flopped down on the bed, without bothering with the tedious task of taking off his jeans, and grabbed for the bunched up comforter.

"Hey." A sleepy voice and a gleaming blue eye emerged from underneath the bundle.

"FUCK ME!!" Brian's heart neatly jumped up to the back of his throat and dropped instantaneously again down to his feet. 

"I thought you'd never ask." Justin agreed in a sweet, little boy voice, snuggling up to Brian. "As long as I you fuck me first."

_______________________________________________________________

The morning found Brian nursing a most expected hangover. 

After a marathon shower, Brian felt human enough to confront a freshly fucked Justin, who was now happily puttering around in the kitchen.

Foremost on the agenda was to enquire why he wasn't where he was supposed to be, struggling with paints and brushes in New York City.

"It's not for me.” Justin maintained again, staring at the coffee maker and steadily refusing to look up at him.

"You've only been there less than a week. How the hell do you know that it isn't for you?" Brian reasoned.

"The same way I knew at 17 that you were." Justin threw back at him with maddening logic while handing him a cup of coffee. 

"Well, don't think that I've been sitting around, pining for you." Brian muttered. "This is ridiculous. You're getting your ass back there." he added resolutely.

"No, I'm not!" Justin shouted. This was unbelievable. Doubting his sanity at ever imagining that Brian would see reason, he carefully took a deep breath and waited for Brian to stop snorting into his coffee cup.

"I was bored there. It’s a boring place full or boring people." Justin sulked. 

“Yeah, it sure ain’t Hollywood.” Brian chuckled and went for a second cup of coffee. 

"And why, pray tell, can't I become famous in Pittsburgh?" Again with the logic. Brian shrugged and reached for a bottle of Advil.

Appearing totally exasperated with such childish behavior wasn't easy when his insides were fluttering with what felt suspiciously like happiness.

His cell rang and he abandoned the argument to answer a frantic call. Michael wanted to make sure that the demon-spawned Wonder Boy had not fucked him to death during the night.

Justin grinned and gulped the rest of his coffee. Victory was sweet.

 

______________________________________________________________

Two days after his return, Justin received a call while at the diner, waiting for his lunch order to arrive.

"Hey stranger, remember me?" The connection wasn't the greatest and it took him a minute to place the voice. 

"Brett?! Is that you?" 

"The one and only. How's it going? Listen, can you get Michael and then call me back. We need to have a meeting."

"What? What's going on?" Justin felt the first rush of excitement begin in his gut and willed himself to keep cool.

"I just got a call from the boss. Looks like the Rage project is back on the board. We need to talk." Justin flipped his cell phone closed and resisted a decidedly uncool-like urge to grab Hunter and twirl him around the diner. 

________________________________________________________________

"Holy shit!" Michael practically screamed into the phone. Justin winced and grabbed a cold and over-ripe peach from the newly stocked Most Expensive Fridge ever built.

"Rage is cumming!" Justin screamed back, stifling giggles and spraying fuzzy pieces of peach skin. "You up for that?" 

He giggled again in response to Mikey's breathy "oh, yeah!” Maybe raiding Brian's excellent stash had not been the best idea. Justin had never been known for holding his liquor. Or drugs. Pot, especially excellent pot, had always been his particular nemesis. It could always be counted on making him act like an idiot, or in extreme cases, like an utter twat.

"Justin... really, is this for real this time?" Michael's wary tone sobered Justin's euphoria.

"I don't know." he replied, honestly. "It was real last time, even if it got shit canned in the end. So, you the fuck knows? It's real right now, so let's enjoy it." He took another toke. "Carpe diem, Michael." he advised with authority.

"I guess we just ride it, right?" Michael's voice regained some of its earlier excitement, yet still wavering between careful elation and wise skepticism. It made Justin smile. Right there and then he felt tons older and wiser. Then again, it probably was just the joint.

________________________________________________________________

A couple of hours later, Brian came into the loft, bringing in with him the scent of fresh snow. 

He jumped up from the couch where he had been contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and the fact that fate had proven him right yet again. 

He threw himself at Brian, arms tight around the long, graceful neck, legs wrapping firmly around his lover's waist.

"Congratulate me!" he crushed Brian's lips with a fierce kiss. "I'm going to be a star. Again..."

Much later, still a little breathless after a most excellent fuck, Justin lay in the arms of a relaxed and uncharacteristically snuggly Brian.

"Didn't I tell you that I wasn't meant for New York City? When are you going to accept that you can't get rid of me?"

"When are you leaving for LA?" Brian answered back with a smirk and a kiss to his nose.

"Fucker!"

\-- The end --


End file.
